Everytime I close my eyes,
Sunday afternoon comes to mind.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
there is only white noises.
The Sunday in my head is always sunny;
rarely it rains.
When it rains on Sunday,
I am reminded of school uniform;
sweaty and sticky,
but it is still Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I can smell Sunday.
The smell of Sunday in my head—
consists of jasmine, pandan, and milk.
The Sunday in my head rarely rains.
When it rains, it smells like **** and soil.
The sunny side of my Sunday is not always bright—
and my wet Sunday is not always gloomy.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself tracing Sunday.
I run my fingers through the odds of—
possibilities and the ambience of the present.
You see, I cannot imagine anyone but myself—
in my Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see no one.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see silhoutte of myself.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself leaving trails.
Everytime I close my eyes,
It was all in my head all along.
Blessed with the odds,
my Sunday goes by very slowly;
so slow sometimes I caught myself in turbulence.
From violent shower to the still lake,
I avoid meeting myself on the foreground.
If I ever crossed path in the middle,
I would be non-existent;
none of this would matter,
and there will never be my Sunday.

Sarah Radzi
In Between Four Walls,
19.08.2018,
01:56

I met Virginia in a wave of sleet.
On Decatur, a hundred winters ago,
with a black iris, black hair in ponytail,
with a tongue like a nightcrawling widow,
Virginia whispered tornados behind the backs of the
grey-suited saxophone players, going blue in the cheeks,
under their blackface.

Under a flimsy sheet of moon sliver sky and a dim streetlight,
Virginia kicked a soda can along the cracking concrete.
With each bar we passed, I hollered, "Thank God we're alive!"
and danced a shapeless jig.

Near Williamson cemetery, Virginia's white knuckles laced into mine.
"The amount of time we have cheapens whatever purpose we have,"
Virginia hissed.

I caressed her serpentine neck.
A lone car's high beams
made Virginia's silhoutte tower above the cemetery gates,
made Virginia's black irises madden to poisonous yellow.

She loosened my grey necktie.
I let down her hair.
A sea of collected strands fell
like a closing curtain.
The distant saxophone ascended to heaven,
leaving me below,
leaving me below,
leaving me to spend the night bellowing for above.

i saw a Silhouette as clear as can be
a figure of an angel there in front of me
the shadow of her wings reflecting in the night
an halo round her head shining very bright
whispering my name as she hovered over head
calling out to me as i lay in my bed
i felt very safe and my heart it filled with love
the silhouette i saw was sent from up above

a hoopoe flew to  silhoutte
with  snail or such lark..
pivotted a proud head
a grin like a wise  monarch..

it´ s variegated plummage
blackened by twilight´
sigh..
side to side it´ s mischievous
eye..!

and all a rush now away
up and away!
savoured it´ s catch at
the end of the day..

home to it´s roost
in a flurry of detailed
be-
the swallow and hushed
agave..

I'd like to trace your fault lines
Further than the bruises that grace under your eyes
And to trace the epicenter to our star signs
Take my hand, let's run away, 'cos baby you were born to fly

And when you choke back the words you don't wanna admit
All I can think is maybe this is finally my time
To take my chances and ease my palms around your heart
And let it rest easy with an improvised lullaby

My timing is flawed, I have no sense of time
My words are so useless when distance cuts our ties
And when I see how the autumn moon is held by the sky
I can't help but hope that someday that's you and I

Should I move forward or hang back and play it cool?
And watch to see if your silhoutte comes over the horizon
Either way, I'm gonna play the fool
Either way, you've already won

So take my hand, let's run away, 'cos baby you were born to fly
I've never had wings, but I'll try to keep up if you don't mind

I never proposed myself to be someone else and
The conception of being the best.
Perpending myself "why Not me"
There's an answer. I know. Don't speak words about it.

I don't have any words from you
You can't sing a song for me.
You'll never think of it.
You can't write things about me.
You'll never think of it.
I hate the way your words keep me safe
And the sight of me as nonentity
Leaving me cold and floating dead in the sea

Frantic.
I don't want you to open your eyes seeing me so worried
Angst.
Morbid, that's morbid.
Why the "other" is always better
Your eyes never landed on mine.
My eyes, my eyes that bursting on love and desire.

This ain't just love
This ain't just jealousy
This is something
This is something you need to see

My heart speaks the language of love
That will never be heard
The feelings,
My feelings, it's weary.
Flying in the surface of fire
Soon it will be burned, that'll the ashes mix in the air.

And there's nothing.

Nothing. I hope you won't regret the things you barely knew. Just lie to yourself I don't want you to feel hurt or bad. That's all I can give to you, My love.

i saw a Silhouette as clear as can be
a figure of an angel there in front of me
the shadow of her wings reflecting in the night
an halo round her head shining very bright
whispering my name as she hovered over head
calling out to me as i lay in my bed
i felt very safe and my heart it filled with love
the silhouette i saw was sent from up above

If you can't spot infatuation
like black crescent shaped moons of dirt
packed up tight beneath finger nails
which wave and sway and point me in
all the wrong directions-
then we have a problem.

Barely propped up on my bed,
slightly hunched, typical 4 am candor-
“You're full of good songs”
you begging for sleep, me begging for company
sitting naked, adjacent, tossing cigarettes carelessly
out a second story window, between a softly lit lamp glow.

HA,
speaking of second stories- here's one for the books.
I can make out that shady sauntering silhoutte from miles away
in the blackest of places, abyss like spaces.
And can hear your muted whispery voice-
coughing up a lung from a song you've left unsung.

and while its far from symbitotic
and edging closer towards psychotic
there's a problem.
If I can't be responsible for myself,
for my stumbling and mumbling
and tracing goosebumps up your neckline
falling in love with the slight hint of a spine-

how can I be a mother and a lover
an obsessor, undressor, pining to
touch my tongue-
to taste the cut from some rusted razorblade
that made its way across skin untouchable-
must've tripped over that notch on your neck-

another night, another bar-
another random blonde girl craning her neck through foggy windows
past me, hungrily
searching for your eye contact
all the while i'm pressing the pen to my own fatal contract-
no more, not worth the time, not worth the effort for the pursuit of his comfort-
She looks like shes salavating, pathetic and starving-
If you have this effect on every girl that resembles me-
then I wish you'd leave me be, let me sleep, disappear from dreams

but how can I be trusted to disregard a feeling
that is settled so deeply in the pit of my stomach
one which swirls and twirls like sand
disturbed by some prodding finger
at the sight of you -

illuminated, engaged, aware of every ambivalent motion.
at your entrance, a beckon, an accidental glance
you happened to toss in my direction-

Everything you do seems arbitrary-
pity kisses, responses days late
with this ever forced fake mysterious aura-
come & go as you please,
feelings absent – words incoherent.

i clench my fists and crack my wrists.
the human experience isn't one best done alone
(not that you'll ever know)
having some eccentric faith in autonomy
and an innate interest in my anatomy
all the while believing its a form of blasphemy
to take some remote interest in whatever I can claim to be.

...She walked down a long road
rain clouds and grays
concealed the stars
It was dark and cold
Dark
and cold as
her stare
She never went this far before but
the scent of the trail was
too much to resist
She wanted more than
daylight til she was
blinded...
Green are the trees no more
and their silhoutte
embraced the ground
She thought blood is red
under the moonlight but
it was black as uncertainties
and it tasted madness
If only
she could get back
If only she could...
then perhaps
she will see
the sunrise
tomorrow...

it's been some time coming
centuries passed
 
since i was able to
see you last
 
cruel fate showing
its shadow cast
 
how our time ended
much too fast
 
your silhoutte
your dainty steps
how i could hear you
when you slept
 
your short hair
and chocolate skin
the enchanting way
your face brightened
 
unconditional
unforgettable
love that was lost
unrelievable
 
green eyes searing
into my skin
 
you taught me how to love again
 
now long gone
my dearest friend
 
you've taught me how to miss again

Let's make love with the stars,
lay **** on sandy shorelines of
a midnight escape.
Let's be young again, care about nothing.
Dance around the fire of the dreams we burned
of the dreams we shared
of the dreams we believed
of the life we dreamt of.
Sing the night away, burn the pain and the regret
leave the worry at the door and turn towards our silhoutte.

Let's be young again,
build castles from the ashes of those dreams
tell the world we won't care if it ceases to exists
tell ourselves we'll remain constant in the debris
of the collapsing world around us.
Take another gulp of life
and hold the weight of the world inside this
smoke filled lungs.

Let's be us,
just this once more;
Young and breathless
but never hopeless.

I marked you as a fool
When you fell onto the sand bursting
With an unreal sense of euphoria
When you could still see the silhoutte of your name
After the tide collapsed into itself
It left you smitten with the idea
That the wax that sticks you all together
Doesn't wither with the wick

So I collapsed into myself
By candlelight and canned heat
Drew up and insubstantial
You treasure the primordial gold
I melt it to fit my posture
I am the sound of a dying constellation
A sound that no one will ever hear
And I marked you as a fool

Turn me into a metaphor
Any metaphor, I don't care which one
Either I'm the raging storm or the silhoutte against the moon
I'm the sunshine on your wet hair or the rain drowing you
I don't ask for your love
Just make me into a literary device
Pen me on paper
That is the only way I'll feel alive
When your words caress my presence even if your hands don't
When I will be immortalized in your works
I don't care if you stay with me for eternity or let me go
I want you to remember me and construct me into prose
Which maybe people will recall
And feel something, anything at all
I want you to use me to create that warmth
That sensation that the lonely strive for
So break my heart
Use my pieces to scratch out words
Use my blood to ink them into sheets
I don't care what you do to me
Just turn me into a ******* metaphor
And store me in your poetry

to feel is to
be human

to be human
is to live

and to live
is to go through life
its challenges
the ups and downs

the silhoutte
of a roller coaster
which either
makes you fret or bet

yet i am
i am tired
exhausted
of it all

feeling aches
in my heart
from memories
of neglect

what a catatonic
person i am
to even still feel
such an outburst

all at once

I can still see you in the dark
     and as I trace your silhoutte on my wall,
     you juggle your last piece of
     cigarette between your fingers--
     disregarding the heat.

I can still feel you in the wind
     with your scent that draws
     all the girls in town to you
     or even when you smell like alcohol
     and fall from your seat.

I can still write down your name
     when I thought my pens
     grew tired of bleeding for you
     and now my blank sheets will be your tomb--
     keep them marking on repeat.

Its a process slower than I'd like,
much like a young girl learning how to ride her very first bike.

Healing.

I can feel the hope wiggle in my toes,
though my head is still filled with a plague of darkness drowning in my woes.

Healing.

I can't see light at the end of the tunnel just yet,
but I can feel its warmth trying to find my hardened silhoutte,

It's called healing.
The process of new growth after something has been broken down,
much like my spirit beaten to the ground.
But I have to keep pushing,
living for a brighter day.
Hopefully all this will mean something,
even if it means nothing til the next life,
A place where my body and my mind aren't in constant strife.

I've began the healing process,
even if the finish line is still far away.
But all I can do is hope for a brighter day.

Opened my eyes,
look through the glass window from my bed,
See the sky at dawn,
white and dark blue blending as a background
for the still silhoutte tree
where hundreds of birds are singing
pulling me back to conciousness...
it's a beautiful morning.

the haunting"

standing out here
in this silent night
a glare of the star gleams
to my silhoutte
like magnetic sparks on
an electric circuit
and i dream how we used to be

a sound of your voice
with that crooked smile
reappear in my taughts
like i'm being hypnotised

and i hear you calling my name
with gentle and sappy lips

i miss the aroma of your
pleasant fragrance
that smells like spring roses
of kabuye

i dream nestled in your hands
on that curly lines sliding me side to side

i miss your softest skin
with tiny pores
brilliant like wedding flowers

i hate the day you left,
a shadow that brought me sorrow
one of the things i regret
but it lavitates in my veins

you are my confinement
i want to break the rules
and beg for one more chance

there is no chance to stop
the immersing you,
because i've failed to defeat the haunting you.

Poem #1

It really hurts to see that I’m not important to you anymore
That I am just  became part of your past
That you’re trying to forget what had just happened between us
That you treat everything a mistakes

It really hurts to see you happy with someone else
And treating me nothing just like a silhoutte behind
I dont know what had just happened
I cant see the old you anymore
I cant see any glimpse in your eyes when youre looking at me

I missed the old you
I missed everything about you
I missed everything that makes us connected together
What happened to you?
Why suddenly changed?
Why are you hurting me like this?

I want to hurt you too and I really hate you.

You gave me a shread
of love and affection
and I fell over melting.

I'm not used to accepting...
love, or giving it
feels like a simulation
I must get through
I must finish quick!

The sky is hazy
the mountains painted blue
am I truly me
are you truly you?

And I find myself
starting over again
on my way to an island
I've never been.

And i find myself
scarred and wild
a shame to know
the doubts I held.

I never thought
I would lie to my self

I never thought i'd
sideline myself

The clouds blend into
the mountains now
a foggy sunset
at my back.

I'm wondering when
the horizon will end
When it will fail
to illuminate.

When my silhoutte
will shivver and quake
the cool breeze
from the mediterranean
drying my sweat

Sitting by the lake
Life as imaginary
As silhoutte in the lake
Mistaken for this weird guy
Called God
Seems like he's got his reflection in the sky
Sitting on the harbor
Unreal that
Boats have found their anchors
And their destinations
Surreal too
Encouraging expels truancy
But swaying with the dreams
Life turns to a warm nuance
Bringing up the destroyed
To be achievers
Life's is a volcano
If you can handle the molten lava
Under the incandescence of volcanic rocks
Find litany spoken by the ashen face
Drowned in the loch
You'll be safe inside

If we could step inside our shadow
Hide until the morning light
We could run away from reality
Making everything alright

Darkness need not fear us
Our anxieties would disappear
We would be hidden from any danger
Our silhoutte would be unclear

A humongous opaque human
Stood fearless against a wall
The stalker would be the scaredy cat
We could make ourselves so tall

Night-time wouldn’t worry us again
Our imagination could have a rest
No longer panicking in pain
A safe haven in our inner-self vest

The uncertainties of the not knowing
Is there someone following me?
If only I had a protective screen
I’d be a night owl walking free

But I do not feel safe when it is dark
Panic attacks haunt my mind
Even an innocent walking dog bark
Is a monsterous pursuer I find

In the line of moral bound, we share the same stage
Thou are not alone, so let the curtains fall
To set one thing and in or another page
But not everything seem likes the way it is at all
But do not let it ow'st thy life
You own yours and not it's yours
The road's not clean but don't be strife
For in every soul, has it's own lure
The silence of thy mind declines
And the peace it grasps is not mine to hold
Because thy voice can sometimes shine
And In it's radiance my heart doth unfold
But when thy voice hiss, my heart takes flight
In silhoutte i find beauty day and night